The Masks We Wear
by gillasue345
Summary: I didn't hear her words, or those of the monster's attorney. I knew that I should pay attention, but it was as if there was an ocean in between me and the words, the only sounds I could distinguish were those of my own shallow breathing and the staccato thud of my heart in my ears and in the fingertips that inched toward my jacket pocket. Part of the Falling Apart Universe.
1. Chapter 1

The Masks We Wear

By Gillasue345

Co-authored by DapperDestruction

Author's Note: This story contains depictions of child abuse. It was written to raise awareness to the seriousness of an issue that many would rather sweep under the rug, and not talk about, because it's too hard, or too scary or painful. But we need to break the silence! If you or someone you know is being abused, please speak out! Call the National Child Abuse Hotline. Break the silence! **The Childhelp ****National**** Child ****Abuse Hotline:** 1-800-4-A-CHILD is dedicated to the prevention of child abuse. For those of you who are reading from the UK, here is a hotline for you to call if you or a friend ever needs help. **Childline** 0800 1111, or **NSPCC** 0808 800 5000.

This story was inspired by Jodi Picoult's Perfect Match, and the much beloved characters of Glee. I do not claim to own either of them. You may see some similarities between this story and Perfect Match, especially in this prologue; however I have taken the initial idea of the story and morphed it to fit my needs. I do ask that other writers on here respect the work that Shannon and I put into our stories and to not plagiarize them. Thanks for reading! You have no idea what it means to us.

P.S. Get some tissues. This'll be a tearjerker.

Prologue

We wear the mask that grins and lies,

It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—

This debt we pay to human guile;

With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,

And mouth with myriad subtleties.

Why should the world be over-wise,

In counting all our tears and sighs?

Nay, let them only see us, while

We wear the mask.

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries

To thee from tortured souls arise.

We sing, but oh the clay is vile

Beneath our feet, and long the mile;

But let the world dream otherwise,

We wear the mask!

~ Paul Lawrence Dunbar ~

August, 2027

When I was a child, I used to be afraid of the monster under the bed. Every night I would wake up in a cold sweat, absolutely positive I was going to be kidnapped into the dark and scary world beneath my bed frame and I would never see my parents again. Of course, this was in the Before. When my father still hoped that I would be every bit the "man" he thought I should be. When it was acceptable for me to think girls had cooties and boys were the best, when he could still think of me with pride because I had the potential to become everything he wanted me to be. When he loved me.

I grew out of those childish fears as time passed; instead focusing my fear on the monster that lived right down the hall… but this was in the past. Now I had my own family. A family I would do anything to protect.

When _this_ monster finally came through the door, he was wearing a mask. I stared at him, amazed that no one else could see what I plainly could. He was the next door neighbor who waved as he watered his flowers. He was the mailman who always had a dog treat in his pocket and a smile on his lips. He was the kind man who volunteered at the crosswalk between the schools, who took a toddler's hand to help him cross the limbo of peril to get him safe and whole on the other side.

My hands shook as they led him to the polished table, as the bailiff shackled him to the small metal hook beneath the tabletop. He stank of fear, I could smell it from my perch in the unforgiving wooden pews, so much like a church's, that I half expected there to be a cross behind the great desk where the judge sat.

My resolve steeled as I felt the weight of the object in my jacket shift and my heart squeezed out an uneven rhythm. Beside me, Kurt swayed a little in his chair as he caught his first glimpse of the man who had forever changed our lives. I gripped his hand, afraid that if I let go, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from taking the three steps necessary to reach the monster at his seat and punish him myself for his crime.

The judge walked in briskly, pulling her glasses from the nest atop her head and slipping them onto her face. With I jolt I recognized her as the woman who conducted our wedding in city hall just seven years ago. She opened the file and sat down and we all sat down.

I didn't hear her words, or those of the monster's attorney. I knew that later Kurt would want to know what all the legalese meant, and that I should pay attention, but it was as if there was an ocean in between me and the words, the only sounds I could distinguish were those of my own shallow breathing and the staccato thud of my heart in my ears and in my fingertips that inched toward my jacket pocket.

Then suddenly, I was brought back to the room that always smelled of musk and furniture polish.

"Not guilty," the monster said his voice confident, unwavering. And that did it, those two words, said so nonchalantly, so easily. I snapped.

Before I even realized what was happening, I was on my feet, my hand reaching into my pocket to the .38 hidden within the folds of the fine silk lining. Within two steps I was close enough to smell his fear, to see the black edge of his coat against the white collar of his shirt. Black and white, that's what it came down to.

I wondered why no one stopped me. Why no one realized that this moment was inevitable; that I was going to come here and do this. But even now, the people who knew me best and loved hadn't grabbed for me as I rose from my seat.

That was when I realized that I was wearing a mask, just like the monster. It was so right, so authentic; no one really knew what I had turned into. But I could feel it cracking into pieces now.

_Let the whole world see, _I thought, and the mask fell away. And I knew, as I pressed the gun to the monster's head, as I reached my finger around the trigger and pulled, that at that moment even I wouldn't have recognized myself.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Masks We Wear **

Chapter 1

**Warning**: This story may contain triggers. It contains graphic depictions of child abuse and is not for the faint at heart. As always, I do not own the characters of Glee; however, Archer and Abbi are very, very dear to my heart. If you would like to make an addition to the Falling Apart Universe, please PM me or DapperDestruction and we can brainstorm!

"Nothing is easier than self deceit, for what each man wishes, that he also believes to be true." Demosthenes

February, 2024

It took Blaine nearly six months to convince Kurt to move out of the city. He had just been offered a prestigious position in a New Hampshire private high school, beating out nearly a thousand other applicants nationwide. At 29, he was the youngest professor to be offered the job. He loved the city of course, but Blaine had been raised to be ambitious and the habit was far too ingrained in him to turn down such an opportunity.

But Kurt was adamant. They had just gotten Archer potty trained, and Quinn was still nursing Abbi. Plus he had his business to think about. Who would be there to take care of the day to day problems associated with small business?

Blaine had shrugged this off, speaking loudly over a screaming Abbi as he paced the short hallway of their cramped apartment. "Quinn usually takes care of that and you know it. Besides, Meriden is quiet and haven't you always said you need the quiet to design?" he wheedled.

Kurt was a costume designer. Shortly after moving to New York, he had been hired on by Michael McDonald as an assistant. After college, he became his protégé, and eventually he opened his own business. Rachel worked exclusively with him on all her plays. It turns out; directing became her true passion after a short but memorable stint on stage. She began to write her own plays, and just a few short years after her first off-Broadway play, she became a household name in the industry, which kept Kurt sufficiently busy.

And a few years later, when they were settled and comfortable in the loft in Soho, they decided to start a family. When Kurt and Blaine approached his business partner and friend about a surrogacy, Quinn readily agreed to help out her friends, especially after her particularly nasty divorce left her with nothing but a poor reputation and a mortgage she couldn't afford.

Quinn had graduated from Yale, married a womanizing but powerful businessman and promptly gave him two beautiful twin girls, whom he doted on. She became the trophy wife that he always wanted and she wasted away in her gilded cage, hiding the bruises he left until one day he broke her arm and she couldn't hide any longer.

Blaine and Kurt helped her, taking her and the girls away. But Quinn's freedom came at a hefty price. Though well educated, her name was now mud in the business world; her ex-husband had seen to that. He'd had her blacklisted, and no company within a hundred miles of New York City would hire her despite her honors degree from an Ivy League university.

At the time Kurt was trying to build a business, and he offered Quinn a share in the company. It was a risky venture, and Quinn was quick to tell Kurt just how risky it was. But Quinn had a sharp eye for business and soon Kurt was one of the most successful design houses in the city.

So when Kurt and Blaine approached her after several failed attempts to become adoptive parents, Quinn was honoured to become their surrogate. And when Archer was born, with his father's curly hair and his mother's beautiful green eyes, Blaine had found his heart.

Archer was two when his father was offered his professorship at Kimball Union Academy. Abbi was six months old with big blue eyes and her mother's smile. Though Quinn was their mother, she preferred to be the cool aunt. "You're their parents," she told them simply. When Abbi was nearly one, right before the start of the new school year at KUA, Kurt finally relented to Quinn and Blaine's urging and agreed to move.

They found a beautiful Cape Cod style home right on the outskirts of Meriden and Kurt renovated it to his exact tastes. It was the ideal family home. There were 55 acres of land surrounding the farmhouse, and within months, Blaine had transformed them into a sustainable garden, hobby shop for the vintage cars he and Kurt always wanted to collect and restore, and a barn for a couple horses. Riding had always been one of Quinn's passions and she was determined to bring the girls out to Uncle Kurt and Uncle Blaine's house during the summers and teach them to ride, along with Abbi and Archer when they're old enough.

Kurt set up his design studio above the garage, finding the smell of motor oil and car wax to be inspiring and soothing. Quinn handled the business end back in New York, coming to visit often, while Blaine set up his office in the sun filled study, lining his walls with the books he collected over the years.

Kimball Union was a small school, with an average teacher student ratio of seven to one. He had small classes that were filled with bright and engaging students who loved him. He was the girls' soccer coach and led the team to a 12-1 season his first year coaching.

Blaine was a model teacher and a trusted colleague, and he prospered at KUA.

They were happy.

And one day three years later, their safe little world was shattered in an instant.


	3. Chapter 3

Masks We Wear Chapter 2

"Blaine! We live five minutes away from campus. We do not need to move into one of the faculty apartments and that's final!"

"But they really need me _there._ Available to them whenever. And it's not an apartment; it's a full house, all to _ourselves_." Blaine's voice held all the certainty and optimism of a young man on a mission.

"No, _we_ need you here, and present. I know that you love them, but they're your students and we're your family. There has to be some kind of line between work and home B."

Blaine pressed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. This argument was getting nowhere.

"Kurt, babe, it's a thirty percent raise if we live on campus, and I know you love Huse House, you said so yourself when MaryAnn lived there and held that engagement party for Jon and Tina's wedding."

"That doesn't mean I wanna live there! I just got this place how I want it and with the market the way it is, you know we could only sell it at a loss." Kurt was furiously putting mayonnaise on Blaine's BLT and slid the plate over to him before starting on Archer's sandwich and mixing peaches into yogurt for Abbi.

"You don't know that. And if we sold, we would only have the mortgage on the apartment in the city and we could use the extra income for the kids' tuition when the time comes…" Blaine trailed off, knowing by the characteristic stiffening of his shoulders that he had hit a nerve. He moved slowly, like a cat about to pounce. "Or we could rent it out. It's a win-win." He wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist and he felt him soften just a bit.

"Who's to say they'll even let us live there?" Kurt asked; his voice was small.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Is that what you're worried about? It's not 2009 anymore Kurt. They know that we're married. They know we have a family." Blaine kissed his way over Kurt's shoulder, finally landing on that sensitive spot at the base of his neck; his voice muffled as he continued his point. "It can work. I know it."

"Can we talk about it later? I've got to get the kids fed their lunch and you have class in…. uh…. in 30 minutes." Kurt's voice was slightly breathless.

"I look forward to it babe," Blaine said, smirking. He let his lips linger a bit longer at Kurt's neck.

"Oh shut up." Kurt said, smiling just a little bit. "Kids! Lunchtime!"

Abbi bounded into the room, her bright blonde curls bouncing against her shoulders. She made a beeline for Blaine.

"Daddy!" she yelled, jumping up in a well-practiced move just as he opened his arms to catch her.

"Well hey there Bug! Did you have a good nap?" Blaine asked, kissing her on the cheek before placing her in her highchair. Archer was slower to emerge from upstairs. His dark curls were sticking straight up in a large cowlick and he was rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Papa," Archer said as he climbed into the stool and took a seat at the breakfast bar.

"Yeah Sport?" Kurt said, as he pushed his sandwich towards his son.

"Are we going to go to the park today?"

"Oh I don't know, honey. I have to finish Auntie Rachel's new dress today. Can we go to the park tomorrow?"

"Aww, come on Papa! Auntie Rachel won't mind if it's a day later than normal."

"I'm pretty sure your son gets his argumentative streak from you," Kurt said, smiling at Blaine.

"You know," Blaine whispered, "There's a fulltime daycare facility right down the road on campus."

"Blaine, we're not talking about this right now," Kurt said pointedly.

There was an awkward pause as Kurt glanced at the children. They were too busy eating to notice their parents' whispered fight.

"You know I'm right Kurt." Blaine's voice was smug. "It's the best move for us right now." He was speaking as lightly as if he were commenting on the weather outside. He grabbed the sandwich from the plate and wrapped it lightly in a piece of wax paper. He grabbed his bag from the great room sofa. Blaine paused at the kitchen door, blew a kiss to Archer and Abbi and smiled cheekily to Kurt before striding down to his bike.

The bike ride to his office was short. Blaine took a short cut through the Northeast field and past the president's house towards his office. He had a few minutes before his class showed up so he took advantage of the quiet to eat his sandwich and arrange the homework he graded the night before. The bell had just rung as he finished his last bite. He grabbed his bag and tossed the wax paper in the trash. He walked at a clipped pace to his classroom.

It was almost full by the time he opened the door. He took the last couple of minutes before the final bell rung to observe his students. This class of juniors was larger than his others. Nearly 20 had signed up this semester and Blaine didn't have the heart to refuse them, even though his usual class size was only about 7.

He smiled as he watched Eddie and Amelia flirt shamelessly in the corner of the room. Eddie was just getting the courage to reach out and brush the hair out of Amelia's face when the bell rang. He drew his hand back as if it had been burned. Blaine could almost hear him internally curse the bell.

Through the conditioned response of a thousand school days behind them, the students made their way to their seats. Blaine grabbed the pile of papers and handed them to Bobby, then sat cross legged in the middle of his desk.

"Class," he greeted. "I hope your Easter break was pleasant. I went to Ohio with Kurt and the kids. We ate ham and my brother-in-law kicked my _ass_ in Clue. Of course, I never was good at Clue, Monopoly was more my style." He clapped his hands together and stood up, walking over to the chalkboard. He wrote 'Free write' in sloppy letters and brushed the dust from his fingers.

"So, take out your journals and write about your Easter breaks."

There was a mighty rustle as the students took out the battered composition notebooks and began to write. Blaine sat back, observing. Every few minutes Joe would glance at Aaron, Aaron would look at Asher, and Asher would look at Brenda. It made his head hurt just thinking of the consequences of the love square in front of him. If only Aaron would realize that Asher was straight. And in love with Brenda. Then maybe he would get his head out of his ass and realize that Joe was in love with him.

But it wasn't like there was anything he could do about it. Blaine laughed. High school was his soap opera. He followed the love lives of his students like one would follow the endless "will they or won't they?" of his favorite TV show.

After a few minutes Blaine called them to order and began his lecture about D.H. Lawrence. Before he knew it, the bell had rung and Blaine was left by himself in the classroom. He sat for a moment, circling his temples with the tips of his fingers.

How was he going to convince Kurt to move? Yes, he loved the house too, but they were in a financial fix and Kurt knew it. And how on earth were they going to afford the tuition for Archer's school next year? He sighed. They couldn't afford the apartment in the City and the mortgage on the farm. They just couldn't. But if they moved into Huse House, and rented out the farm plus the extra income with the raise, then they could put some by and save. Then Kurt's income would take care of the apartment and they'd be fine.

But Kurt loved that house. And he loved the apartment. He wanted it all and they couldn't afford it all. He sighed and stood, gathered his things and walked out the door.

Blaine made it home shortly before dark. He parked his bike against the century old oak in the front yard and sat on the second step. It was getting warmer, the early spring air held the scent of rain and the promise of a warm season. He remembered the many nights that he and Kurt would sit out on the porch swing at Burt's house back in Ohio. Often they wouldn't speak a word, just hold one another's hands and watch the night fall. He smiled. The ground would be dry enough to start teaching Archer some drills this weekend. Archer had been bugging him to do so ever since the snow had melted.

There was a familiar squeak behind him and he turned his head slightly to see Kurt take a seat beside him. Kurt was holding a sleeping Abbi in his arms. Blaine wrapped his arm around Kurt's shoulders and leaned over to kiss him gently on the forehead.

"How was your day, babe?" he murmured against Kurt's soft hair.

"Archer has a fever. And Abbi's been crying all day. I'm pretty sure that they're coming down with something."

"Just another day in paradise huh?" asked Blaine.

Kurt chuckled. "And you? How was your day?"

"Fine I guess. Joe is still in love with Aaron."

"Poor guy. Is he still coming over to babysit Thursday? Or do we need to see if Amelia is free?"

"I think he'll be fine. What movie do you wanna go see?"

Kurt shrugged. "Don't really care."

"Did you get Rachel's dress finished?"

"Mostly. Archer finally got his way and we went to the park, but then he started not feeling well so we came back home."

"What's for dinner?"

"Food," Kurt replied, smirking. Blaine rolled his eyes.

"Any specific kind of 'food'?"

"Delicious food."

"Oh thanks for narrowing that down for me."

"My pleasure."

"So are we gonna talk about it?"

Kurt sighed. "Blaine—"

"—Kurt, you know it's the right thing to do. What if we rented it out? That way once we get back on our feet it's still waiting for us. We get the raise by living on campus. There will be extra income from the rental property and all we have to worry about is Archer's tuition for next year and the apartment in the city."

"Blaine… I just love it here."

"Kurt, baby, we can't afford it all right now. We're being pulled in too many directions."

"Oh babe, I know that."

"It'll still be here waiting for us. We won't sell, I'm sure we can find a nice family to rent it out… just until we get back on our feet. And this summer we can go to the apartment so you can be closer to the business… It'll work babe."

Blaine pulled Abbi from his arms and placed her gently on his thighs. She smiled in her sleep, placing her feet against Blaine's soft sweater. Her soft blonde hair fanned out around his legs.

Kurt watched them together with a soft smile on his face.

"Alright Blaine, you win,"

"Yes," Blaine whispered under his breath.

"Don't gloat, BB, it's unbecoming. Come on, supper's almost ready."

"What are we having?"

"Food."

Blaine laughed.

In all, it was a normal day in this paradise he called life.


End file.
